Last orders loom for the South's potent miniatures

America's South takes special pride in its traditions but one of its eccentric quirks is now close to disappearing. And, unusually, many locals are overjoyed at the mooted change.

South Carolina, which once led the drive for secession from the Union, is moving towards abandoning a lesser known but equally intriguing claim: that of being a unique stronghold of the mini bottle.

The state currently stands in splendid isolation as the last place on Earth where, by law, a bar or restaurant must serve spirits out of miniatures, which are pleasing to the eye but a nightmare to handle.

"Cute" or "quaint" coo visitors when not falling off their bar stools laughing at the absurdity of the rule.

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"I sort of forget how weird it all is and then outsiders come in and remind me," said Megan Mathis, a barista at Club Habana, a stylish watering hole in Charleston. The sooner the better, she says of reform.

Her "popping" wrist and a colleague's bone spur under her index finger, the result of constantly twisting tiny bottle tops open, are only some consequences of the ban on normal-sized bottles enshrined in the state constitution.

In preparation for a busy night, some bartenders even wrap tape around their hands like boxers before a bout.

On the statute book since the 1970s, the law ensures that South Carolina cocktails are some of the most potent and most expensive in the land.

They look weedy but the humble mini bottle packs quite a punch, as witnessed by late night scenes on the streets of stately Charleston, or the "redneck Riviera" resort of Myrtle Beach.

Once opened, the tiddlers must be emptied of all their contents, all 1.7 fluid ounces (nearly 50mls), considerably more than the average US hit of one to 1.2 ounces.

Wary drinkers order "two threeway", two mini bottles shared between three glasses. But most patrons pour the super-sized measures down the hatch regardless.

They pay for it with their wallet, however, and make the bartenders sweat too.

"Enjoy," sighed a weary Megan, having removed from shelves, twisted open, poured and lobbed into the bin a mini bottle each of vodka, cointreau and chambord to fix me a knockout "Death by Martini" at a whopping £11.30 a glass.

That mix pales besides the local version of a Long Island Iced Tea, vodka, rum, tequila, gin and triple sec combined, so hefty that some bars serve the concoction in a jug.

The hazards of imbibing such stiff measures - and a desire to do away with the legacy of Prohibition and Bible-bashing teetotalism - have spurred local legislators to bring the state into line with the rest of the world. "It's acknowledged that our drinks are the strongest in the country," said Robert Hayes, state senator who never touches the stuff himself.

"It doesn't take many to put you over the drink driving limit," he said. "I want change for safety's sake."

Mr Hayes and his allies are pushing for "free-pour" drinks alongside mini bottles in bars and aim to put the reform on the state ballot this November.

In fact the status quo is so topsy-turvy that private individuals are forbidden to buy the mini bottles in liquor stores and bars may display ordinary sized bottles for decoration but only if empty or filled with water.

Since Utah abolished its ban on regular bottles in 1990, South Carolina has had only in-flight drinks trolleys and overpriced hotel room bars for company in its quixotic campaign to serve spirits in miniatures only.

And if Clyde Burris, who sells 18 million every year and stocks mini bottles of Remy Louis XIII at $172 (about £100) a throw, has anything to do with it, what he calls "the best system in the world" will survive.

Change will eat into the state's tax revenues and allow barmen to cheat their employers, he argued in his store, a Smith and Wesson .38 tucked into the back pocket of his trousers.

Doesn't the bar and restaurant trade support a change to the law?

"That's bull," he growled. "Bar owners are thrilled to death by mini bottles."

Now 63, he unearthed ancient cuttings describing him as a "gun packing, fist throwing operator" and he recalled the time in the 1970s when George Bush senior asked him to keep the hell-raising George junior out of trouble during a visit to the area.

"I'm a best friend of a lot of politicians," Mr Burris, who sells more mini bottles than anyone else in South Carolina, said meaningfully.

And with a flourish, he showed off his solution to the local Long Island Iced Tea problem: a mini bottle version he sells wholesale at 52p a time.